First there was the crash. Screams of tyres and pedestrians, and the shattering of glass, puncturing the shell of the ruptured car. The crack as bones splintered into warped, distorted forms. Smoke clouded visions and assaulted nostrils, as many arrogant drivers blasted their horns, making an enormous clamour that reverberated through the body of my vehicle. Sympathetic and compassionate faces crowded round the window whereas many others frantically picked up their phones. I watched the scene play out in front of me, and I felt myself slipping away, whilst only my sub consciousness roared determinedly, before finally falling away, too. And then...
And then I woke up to find myself in the hospital, with the sickly medicine smell, and the white walls and clean beds. Flowers, toys and cards lay strewn across bedside tables and windowsills. Pain flared in my chest, as angry and tortured as a blazing inferno. It hissed and spat, making movement uncomfortable and sometimes virtually impossible.
Many family members came to visit me- when I was conscious- embracing me tightly and telling me how lucky I was. Worst of all was my Mom. Surging in like a tsunami, sobbing and moaning and fussing over my every need. Some times she would cry, other times she’d laugh. She was neurotic . It was a side I had never seen to her before.
Gradually recovering, I was able to walk around with the help of a nurse, and I was able to brush my teeth with my left arm, although my dominant arm- my right arm- was still in plaster cast. I felt stronger and fitter, and I knew I was on the road to recovery.
But then I had a relapse.
I went spiralling into a coma, a never ending fall, agonizingly hearing every word of the people around me. My Mom would sit by me every night, and speak to me; often she would break down and become agitated, begging me to wake up. Then the Nurses and Doctors would escort her out, and I was left alone in the darkness.
It happened that day, after two weeks in an unbearable and atrocious coma. It happened the day when a crowd had gathered in the cramped hospital room, to all pay their respects. I listened to the scuffling, moaning and soft sobs as the day wore on, and I burned with an uncontrollable desire to break free, to feel again and to live. I fought and fought to wake myself up, to believe it was all an illusion. Yearning to feel the warmth of a hug, to feel my arms around my Mum and Dad, to actually see them again. I listened intently as boots clumped along the polished floor, and a soft wumph, as the seat beside my bed was occupied.
“Hey, Sam.” A voice said, sniffling back tears “Just thought I’d drop in,” The voice paused. “I know you’ll come back, you always were a fighter.” The voice harnessed raw emotion and sadness. I suddenly became aware of the beeping sound of my monitor.
Beep............Beep............Beep............
The voice continued. “I remember the time you dropped that egg on your head, ‘cos you thought it was a pizza,” The voice gave a emotional laugh. “Then, when you used to do that funny little waddle when your football team scored a goal,” the voice was choked on tears, and was genuinely unhappy.
Beep...............Beep...............Beep...............
I smiled inside, immersed in the memories of my childhood, of a little laughing girl in-between her smiling mother and father.
Beep.....................Beep.....................Beep.....................
“Oh my...flat line!” The voice shrieked, making the bed move as they leant on it to hit the button repeatedly. Nurses and Doctors trampled into the room, trying to rush towards me. My talkative companion had gone silent, except for the cascading moans that ran from his lips like a relentless waterfall. Everything happened in slow-motion then. My mum screamed persistently, her tormented howls pulsing through my body. I felt my strength ebb away. Nurses tried to shock my heart back into motion, but to no avail. I raged inside, agonised and grieving like a lonely soul trapped on earth. Where would I go? Where would all of my memories go? My room? My family? I thought wildly, my strength speeding away like sap down a freshly cut tree. I was falling. Falling... Finally, I gave in. My sub-conscious receded and diminished and I was lost to the darkness. The darkness of death.
In memory of Samantha Holiya,
Who died on Fri, 13th 2010.
She died of internal bleeding caused by a road accident. She was 17 years old. God bless her soul. R.I.P
~*~*~*~
When Sam died, I died with her too. Part of me felt torn, like a knife had been punched into my stomach, twisted. I never felt the same again. It was like a stain had been smeared over my world, stifling the sobs and screams that I desperately wanted to share. My tears surged down my red cheeks, leaving scars I would never forget. Scars that would never heal nor go away, scars that pained me for life... and part of me died. And the rest of me lived on, just without her.
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